


in my head i do everything right

by brigsbeebear



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, yes i used a line from a lorde song because i'm insane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-07 04:30:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20303500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brigsbeebear/pseuds/brigsbeebear
Summary: Crowley notices how much Aziraphale compliments him, and he has a revelation.





	in my head i do everything right

**Author's Note:**

> hello, thank you for reading! shout out to betsy for proofreading and helping me write this, i feel like i couldn't write anything without her lol. visit my [tumblr](https://eraserheadbabies.tumblr.com) if you want

Crowley had begun to take notice of how much Aziraphale complimented him. It happened a lot, especially after the Almost-Apocalypse. Every time Aziraphale said something nice about him, or smiled at him, it felt like a swift punch in the gut. It had always felt like that, but the feeling became more… apparent as time went on. He tried to ignore it (and after six thousand years of ignoring his feelings, Crowley had excelled in this department), but then the bookshop burned down. And for an awful day, he thought he wouldn’t ever see the angel again. The Apocalypse had been hours away and all Crowley could think about was Aziraphale dying alone in flames, not knowing Crowley was in love with him (and likely always will be). He promised himself he would tell Aziraphale, get it off of his chest. He hated lying to him. There was also the tiny hope that for some reason, Aziraphale felt the same. Crowley thinks that maybe he was created with that spark inside of him; the constant tug to be with the angel. He wouldn’t put it past The Almighty. Confessing your love to your best friend of six thousand years is easier said than done, of course. Especially when you were as bad with feelings as Crowley was. For so long, he forced himself to bury how he felt, and now he found it was becoming harder and harder to dig those feelings back up in a way for him to express them. He was waiting for the right time, when he was comfortable and could speak without tripping over every other word. He became nervous and impatient, but still couldn’t force himself to just say _it_. And Aziraphale definitely wasn’t making it any easier. 

They had been eating lunch in the park the first time it really rubbed Crowley the wrong way. Well, to be perfectly fair, it was a picnic―Aziraphale’s idea. Crowley didn’t care much for food, but he picked at some grapes as he laid on his back in the sun. It was a beautiful day, all sunshine and birds singing. It was always harder to hide how he felt in this weather; the sunlight prying him open for the whole world to see. Scratch that, he didn’t care much about the world seeing, but if the world could see, then Aziraphale could see, too. Aziraphale wasn’t a part of the world, at least not to Crowley. He participated in it, lived in it, sure, but he was separated from the world. Crowley couldn’t love anything in the world nearly as much as he loved the Aziraphale.

“Something on your mind?” Aziraphale’s voice crashed through Crowley’s mind like a wrecking ball through a building. 

“Nah. Why would you ask that?” Crowley purposefully kept his eyes off of the other.

“Well, you’re awfully quiet, which is a little out of character, and you’re making that cute face you always do when you’re thinking too hard about something. You’re bottom lip always sticks out.” Aziraphale took another bite of his sandwich, completely unaware that he had just detonated a bomb only Crowley could see. The demon sat up suddenly, spilling some of the wine Aziraphale had brought.

“What? I don’t―I’m not _cute_!” Crowley thought offhandedly that maybe he should have let Hell kill him. Aziraphale giggled, studying Crowley’s face. Rays of sunlight shot through his hair, giving him a natural halo. Huh. How funny.

“Crowley, dear, you are. Especially when you get all flustered like that.”

“We are not having this conversation.” Crowley collapsed onto his back again, slinging his arm over his face to hide the blush coloring his cheeks. He realized how… much it made him feel, and decided he should keep a record of all the nice things Aziraphale said to him, so he could revisit them later and find out what bothered him so much. He actually wrote it down on a little notepad he carried in his pocket:

_That’s my boy_ ― Said when Crowley got a book Aziraphale couldn’t reach. Strange, considering he could always use a miracle.  
_You’re too good for me_ ― Crowley had cleaned the flat above the bookshop while Aziraphale was away one day. This one especially bothered Crowley because of how spectacularly untrue it was.  
_Oh, thank you, you truly are magnificent_ ― Crowley had paid for dinner for the two of them. Seriously? _Magnificent_ for picking up the tab?  
_You never fail to make me smile_ ― Crowley had made some dumb joke, which he can’t remember for the life of him. He can only remember how Aziraphale laughed, a beautiful harmonic thing.

And these were from just two days. It was hard for Crowley, because he never knew when to expect it. Doing things for Aziraphale came easier to him than anything else ever has, so he didn’t really notice he did until Aziraphale pointed it out and called him _amazing_ or _phenomenal_. For once, Aziraphale was going too fast for Crowley.

♱

“Angel! I’m here!” Crowley burst into the bookshop carrying a brown paper bag. 

“Over here, Crowley! Give me a moment, dear.” Crowley heard the other’s voice muffled by whatever pile of books he was standing behind. The demon walked to the nearest chair and plopped down, making himself at home.

“Good morning.” He smiled at Aziraphale as he stepped out from behind a nearby book-tower. “I-um, I drove past that bakery you like, and got you a cinnamon roll. You always get cranky when you don’t have breakfast.” Crowley handed the bag to the angel, whose face lit up. The notebook sat heavy in his coat pocket.

“Oh, Crowley! What have I done to deserve such a good companion?” He smiled down at Crowley, his face so bright that the demon had to close his eyes for a moment.

“It’s nothing, really. I went there for something for me, and then remembered you liked it, so…” Crowley gestured to the bag.

“Hush. This means a lot to me, you know. All the little things you do for me. Like I’ve said before, you really are a kindhearted person.” Aziraphale kept solid eye contact with Crowley, and he found he could barely breathe.

“Shut up. Seriously, it was nothing.” Aziraphale was still looking at him and Crowley couldn’t handle the intensity of it.

“No, Crowley. You-”

“Can you just drop it? Please?” Crowley’s silence and stiffness snapped like a rubber band as the emotions of the situation got to him. Aziraphale looked hurt, his face still open and inviting Crowley in. Crowley wanted to punch himself.

“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale whispered. “Did I do something wrong?” Crowley stood up and walked around Aziraphale, needing the space.

“No, Aziraphale. Of course you didn't. It’s just that I can’t… I don’t know how to react when you say stuff like that. Or look at me in that way you do. Like I hung the stars in the sky for you or something.” Crowley avoided Aziraphale’s eyes while he spoke.

“Well, you did hang some of the stars, Crowley.” Aziraphale states matter-of-factly.

“That’s not the point, angel! It’s a figure of speech!” Crowley sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… sometimes you look at me like I can do no wrong. And I get all conflicted because it makes me feel so many things at once. Part of me hates it because I’m not good. My whole purpose is to do bad. Spread discontent, corrupt human minds and-and wreak havoc. So I feel like it’s all a cruel joke on my part; you liking me. Another part of me feels guilty because I’m afraid I’ll corrupt you.” Crowley felt the tears well up in his eyes and, for once, didn’t care. “Yet another part of me feels… giddy when you do those things because it means you like me and for six thousand goddamn years all I wanted was for you to like me at least half as much as I like you, but-but now that you do, it feels… I don’t know how it feels! And I don’t know what to do!” Crowley stopped his erratic pacing and collapsed on a dusty chair near the window of the bookshop. “I’m sorry, Aziraphale. I had a whole speech planned in my head but… but I forgot it all.” Crowley laughed, devoid of humor, a sound like metal being hammered, sharp and loud. “In my head, I do everything right.” His voice cracked, and a strangled sob escaped him. “But real life is a different story, I guess.” Crowley covered his face with his hands.

“Crowley.” The angel’s voice was soft, like he was afraid that speaking too loud would scare Crowley away. Crowley didn’t move.

“Crowley, please look at me.” Crowley heard footsteps on carpet, and fabric rubbing against fabric. He parted his fingers, peeking through them like a scared child. Aziraphale was on his knees in front of the chair Crowley sat in, his face so full of emotion that it was hard to look at. Crowley’s hands dropped to his lap, and Aziraphale took hold of them. Crowley met eyes with him, trying to gauge what would come out of his mouth next.

“My dear, I need you to hear this. I know I ask a lot of you, but please hear what I have to say. I know that you’ve done bad things. We all have. Angels, demons, humans, everyone. But I love all of you, every single part, even the parts you think are unloveable. That’s what being in love is. I’m so terribly sorry that for even one second you thought you weren’t deserving of happiness, and love, and acceptance. I’m sorry if I ever made you think those things. For the longest time I couldn’t deal with my feelings for you because it was against the rules, and you know how I am about rules. But we go by our own rules now, and I don’t want to hide anymore. I’ve been hiding for six thousand years; it gets quite tiring. I don’t want you to have to hide either. Show your entire, unchanged self to me. That is what I love, I promise you.” Aziraphale punctuated his point by squeezing Crowley’s hands for a second. “And your purpose isn’t to “do bad.” You did save the world, as I recall.” He added quietly. Silence fell again, but this one was comfortable, with a hint of anticipation. “Can I kiss you?” Aziraphale blurted before his brain could catch up. Then again, even if his brain wasn’t fast enough to catch up with Aziraphale, Crowley was. 

Crowley surged forward, his back hurting slightly from the odd angle. He grabbed Aziraphale’s face in his hands, pulling him up to him until Aziraphale was pulled onto Crowley’s lap. They wrapped their arms around each other, terrified that the rug would be snatched out from under them and they would end up empty-handed and alone again. Crowley had a feeling this wouldn’t end that way, though. Crowley opened his mouth slightly, deepening the kiss, and tried to pour all the emotion he possible could into the action. After a while, Aziraphale broke away so he could speak.

“I know how much they hurt us. Heavens, Crowley, I know. We’re going to have to teach each other that we’re deserving of love, okay?” Crowley nodded slowly. He didn’t need Aziraphale to elaborate on who “they” were. “They” meant Heaven and Hell, it meant everyone who didn’t want them to be happy. 

“It’s sad how long we spent being unhappy.” Crowley mused aloud, fiddling with Aziraphale’s bowtie absentmindedly. The angel shifted and rested his head in the crook of Crowley’s neck. He hummed in agreement.

“Well,” Aziraphale sighed. “Today is the first day of the rest of our lives.” Crowley laughed, letting himself sink into his emotions instead of evading them. He leaned down and kissed Aziraphale’s temple, who was blushing furiously. _Yeah, I could get used to this_, Crowley thought, smiling so hard he thought his face would rip in two.

“Do you wanna eat the cinnamon roll I got you?” Crowley asked, remembering what started this entire thing.

“Oh! I very much would like to.” Aziraphale looked at him, temporarily coming out of his hiding space in Crowley’s shoulder. Crowley snapped his fingers, the bag appearing in Aziraphale’s lap. “Thank you, dear.”

“I just didn’t want you to get up.” Crowley replied sheepishly. Aziraphale gasped in mock surprise.

“You really are a wiley old serpent!” he said, right before leaning in to kiss Crowley again. They had six thousand years of lost time to make up for, after all.


End file.
